


Hey Mom, It's Mia... Again

by only_freakin_donuts



Series: Wish You Were Here [4]
Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: December 5th verse, Epistolary, F/F, Gen, Rose is dead, but y'all knew that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:36:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27999114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_freakin_donuts/pseuds/only_freakin_donuts
Summary: It's ten years later and Mia has gone to and dropped out of college, developed many passions, and found herself an "excellent" partner that she wants to settle down with, so Mia wants to write her "Wose Mommy" a letter and tell her all about it.
Relationships: Luisa Alver/Rose Solano, Rose and Daughter
Series: Wish You Were Here [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1061099
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Hey Mom, It's Mia... Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JustRosey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustRosey/gifts), [cerseisdaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerseisdaughter/gifts).



> A gift for @JustRosey- because even when we both feel less than love- we still _did that_ , we still created a whole fictional playground and Mia came out of it! And I quite like her and her messy life. (Not to mention, this gift is for rekindled international friendships ♡) Also a gift for @CerseisDaughter, for being my biggest supporter as of late. I've loved gabbing about roisa with you and encouraging your bad sleeping/reading habits. (And as always, thank you @aparticularbandit for the beta!)  
> It clearly takes a village.

“Hey Mom, it’s Mia (again).

It’s been a few… a lot of years since my last letter, I know. And a lot of years that a lot happened in my life, too (I initially wrote “a lot of years I did a lot of growing up in”, but that’s not the truth. In a lot of ways, I’m still the immature high school senior that wrote to you ten years ago– even though since then I went to college, flunked out of college, have had a few jobs, and one excellent partner). I don’t know why all of a sudden I got this urge to write and talk to you, and this is the only way I know how to tell you about everything that’s happened.

I want to tell you about everything– my time in college, the injury that I dropped out over, my many hobbyist ventures, my haphazardous dating life. We’d both be here for hours, though. And I don’t want to keep you for too long. 

(That’s so silly, that I’m worried about occupying your time. And it’s silly that I’m worried that you’d care about me taking up too much of it, as if I’m an imposition on you. I’m your  _ daughter _ and you’re my  _ mom _ and you probably  _ want  _ to hear all the things about me and my messy life. I hope you do.) 

I have chocolate flancocho in the oven as I write to you; it’s Mama’s favourite but it’s also Evie’s. I’m trying to save them, my big point, until the end but I just can’t keep it in. I’ve never been this crazy about someone. It’s our one year anniversary in a few months and I’m just as in love with them now as I was a year ago. 

I think this chocolate flancocho is going to go on the menu for the restaurant I want to open. I’ve been dreaming up opening a restaurant for so long, but it feels like it’s so far away. It feels like that dream that’ll always be just out of reach and I might trip over my feet trying to catch it. Mama and Evie are my biggest supporters; Mama tries everything I cook even when it doesn’t look promising, and she’s honest enough to tell me when something isn’t it. I worked on this menu instead of doing coursework sometimes when I was in college… Don’t tell Mama that. And yet it still isn’t right yet, it’s still missing that sparkle. 

I bet you’d know what it’s missing, you’d tell me like it’s obvious. And Mama and I would realize it  _ was  _ obvious, we just needed someone smart to point it out. 

I also feel like I’m not responsible enough to own a whole ass restaurant of my own. I’m only 28 and I didn’t go to culinary school, I’m bad with money and probably time, too, and I know I wouldn’t be alone, but– oh my God I’d have to hire people, too, how would I know who to hire?– I feel underprepared, to say the least. So instead I’m doing TikTok dances around the kitchen and making ill-advised decisions with my hair (oh man, you may’ve been a little bit disappointed in me the day I decided to shave my head because I thought it’d be fun and fresh, Mama sure was…and I kind of was, too, by the next day).

I signed up to coach youth cheerleading starting in January. I’m a really good cheerleader, Mom– or at least I used to be, anyway. I went out in a blaze of glory, total  _ you _ style, I busted up my body for the better part of a year and then I was a champion… and then I was in the emergency room with a blown out knee. The “Unhappy Triad”, they call it, with significant damage to my meniscus– not to mention the cracked ribs, stress fractured feet, and hyperextended elbow incident of my freshman spring. Dare I say I was the best, until it broke me.

I didn’t want to be in college if I couldn’t cheer. I know, I know, the last time I wrote to you I had big dreams of becoming a doctor like Mama was, but I realized really quickly that that wasn't really me. I wouldn’t be happy being a doctor. I was applying to UCF, Mama’s alma mater, ready to be pre-med like she was… and the only thing that excited me even a little bit about it was being a Knights cheerleader. So, before anything else, I submitted an application for tryouts. I mean, I was a Top Gun girl in high school (a really prestigious All Star team here in Miami); UCF  _ had  _ to want me. And they did. I got accepted to be a Knight before I got accepted to the school itself, it was always my first priority. And when it became clear that my knee, amongst other parts of me, wasn’t going to get me past two (winning) championships? I didn’t want any of it anymore. 

So, I dropped out of college in my first semester of junior year, before I ever even declared a major. I’ve never in my life been as sedentary as I was the year after that accident, and I’ve never been so unhappy, either. As I mentioned in my last letter, I run a YouTube channel, and I thought that year would be a good time to make content and interact with my viewers. And it was! But, I didn’t even want to. It was– and still is– my source of income, so I stuck with it, but when I look back at those videos I see how unhappy I was. 

I think Mama saw it, too. I tried to shield her from it, the way she shielded me from her various low points while I was growing up. You know just like I do that Mama can be volatile, with her moods, and seeing me sad would just make her sad. But I think she knew. She’s very hard to keep secrets from. She is doing so well, by the way. Her school kids keep her plenty busy, and she’s such a good teacher. She misses you, though, and so do I. She pulls out the photo albums so often– the ones that have the pictures of you guys before Mama was pregnant with me, before you got sick, when you still had the long, flowy red hair and Mama still had her long hair too (I used to call it her pretty princess hair; she always wore it shorter when I was young). The ones that hold the pictures from those few weeks we overlapped on this Earth, too. Mama was  _ so _ keen to pull out all the photo albums the first time I brought Evie home for dinner. 

Evie, Evie, Evie. I’m finally at the climax of my letter, where I can tell you about the person who’s made me so, so happy lately just simply by existing, the happiest I’ve been since my cheer days. We couldn’t be more different– Evie’s ex-military, a delivery room nurse, and the youngest of four siblings, not to mention older than me and more accomplished than me. But at the same time, we’re pretty similar. Evie’s mom is a recovering addict who works the program just like Mama does– and Evie’s dad passed a few years ago, too. We both understand the frustration that comes with injury; they got injured in the Army years ago. We’re also both finding ourselves more and more every day, and I love that I get to be there while they become their true self, and that they get to watch me grow into my true self, too. 

Not to mention, Evie’s a cancer warrior. It turns out all my favourite people are (and Uncle Raf, too, I guess). 

I’d like to think I’m more secure in myself than I was at the time of writing my last letter to you. Evie’s a part of that, and Mama, too, but I’d like to take some credit! Some stuff super sucked, but I’m yours and Mama’s daughter– I’m tough. I still miss you all the time, though; I’m tough, but I’m also tenderhearted, a complete sap if you couldn’t tell, an absolute softie for people I love. Including you.

Love you always, my Wose Mommy.

Love, your ladybug.”

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone is here from my pre-AO3, Grey's Anatomy/Omelia fic days, you may recognize Evie and ask yourself "wait, is Mia dating _that_ Evie??" And the answer is yes, yes she is.


End file.
